If he didn't get them freed soon, that cord would cut all the way through his tendons and bones, and sever his hands completely. With every movement Vane made, the cord cut into the flesh of his wrists. His brother, Fang, was tied to an equally thin limb on the opposite side of the tree where they dangled eerily amid swamp gas, snakes, insects, and gators. At last he had confirmation that Talon of the Morrigantes was a first-rank idiot. There was something seriously wrong with anyone who wanted to live out here in this swamp.

Even in the darkness of the Louisiana bayou, he could tell just how putrid and revolting it was. Honestly, though, he'd rather be dead than touch that stank. He didn't know what was worse, the thought of losing his hands, his life, or falling into that disgusting gator-infested slime hole. Vane strained again against the sharpened cord that held his hands tied together above his head, secured to a thin limb, as he hung precariously from an ancient cypress tree over some of the darkest, nastiest-looking swamp water he'd ever seen. Instead he continued to apologize for causing their deaths. I'll get us out of this.'įang didn't hear him. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the severe pain of his wrists. Every time he got close to raising his body up to the limb over his head, his brother started talking, which broke his concentration and caused him to fall back into his hanging position.

His arms ached from the strain of lifting two hundred pounds of lean muscle up by nothing more than the bones of his wrists. Vane Kattalakis ground his teeth as he fell back from trying to pull himself up. I swear didn't mean to get us killed like this.'

Night play by sherrilyn kenyon